Kianey Carter: Saving the memories - the new way, my way

“Baby book. What is it good for? Absolutely nothing.”

OK, forgive my “War” reference, but this is exactly the question I ask myself and my friends about baby books. My son has one. It was one of the absolute last things I bought ... and I mean like days before my delivery. I’ve filled in a few pages, but it looks nothing like the baby book my mom made for me. For this, I feel a little guilty.

My baby book is filled with notes, pictures and mementos from my first year of life. My mom documented everything and I am so grateful for that.

Unfortunately, I am not her. I don’t have her gorgeous cursive penmanship. Yes, cursive. The entire book is written in cursive and it’s so neat. Each page is filled with memorable moments in my life and not just quick little lines, but entire paragraphs detailing what, where, when, who and how it made her feel.

I know when my son took his first steps, cut his first tooth, smiled for the first time, etc. How do I know? Those memories are all stored on my cell phone. My cell phone is never far away and because of my attachment, some might call it addiction, my phone is full of documentations of my son’s first year on Earth.

It’s filled with more than a thousand pictures, dozens of videos and plenty of notes telling me when things happened.

I can remember spending hours asking my grandmother or mom about the people and stories that went along with the many photo albums in their homes. While I may not have a physical book for my son to flip through, I have plenty of stories to share with him.

One of the reasons I love having so many pictures and videos on my phone, I can immediately share them with my son. The look on his face when he sees himself or my husband is hilarious. Don’t get me started on showing him videos. I can show him the same video ten times in a row and he still thinks it is funny. And what’s cuter than a baby laughing? NOTHING!

I am sure this is the same way my mom and grandmother felt sharing our family’s memories and stories with me. I may not have the same method, but the result is the same.

Maybe next month when my son is a year old, I will finally sit down and fill out those missing pages in his baby book. If I don’t, I won’t feel guilty. I will understand that this is just a new way of doing things.

Nothing is wrong with the old way and nothing about doing it my way is bad, just different. And that, my friends, is the most important thing I’ve learned during this first year. Everyone is different and that is OK.